


The heart of a father is the masterpiece of nature.

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Curvo loves his son so much, bittersweet fluff, exercice in style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny Tylpë and his father being happy.<br/>Happy elves are important.</p><p>For Crack-in-the-cup's brithday <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	The heart of a father is the masterpiece of nature.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crackinthecup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/gifts).



> Title stolen from L'Abbé Prévost.

I’m sitting outside, in front of the forge, and I know the look upon my face will prevent anyone from talking to me. None of the apprentices dared stop me when I stormed out. I’m rubbing my fingers together, nervously, and I’m biting my tongue until I can feel the first drop of blood in my mouth.

There’s no point in trying, I cannot do it. Atar might think I’m worthy of this task, but he cannot see how wron– But I cannot say this. I cannot think about such things. Atar cannot be wrong, and he isn’t blinded by anything. If he thinks I can do it, then he must be right. How complicated should it be for me to do it anyway? It’s only a stone after all. I should be able to turn it in anything I want. He taught me how to.

The flow of my thoughts is stopped when I see the little silhouette running up to me; clumsy footsteps I know too well. The simple sound of them makes me smile, and as soon as I see the joyful face coming to me, I forget my troubles.

“Atya! Atyaaaaaa!’ He runs faster, but somehow he manages to stumble and falls down, headfirst, on the ground. Luckily the grass is thick and bushy, but I rush to him nonetheless, fearing that he might be hurt.

I kneel next to my son’s little body, still lying in the grass, and rest one gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tyelpë dearest, are you alright?”

Slowly, my son lifts up his head to glance at me. He seems a bit dazed by the shock of the fall. He blinks and shakes his head, my hand strokes his hair, slowly, but I cannot help feeling a bit nervous. “Son…? Do you feel alright?” 

The child looks at me, and little by little, I can see his lips curling up until an amused smile dances on his lips. He giggles and uses my arm as a support to lift himself up. I reach out to help him, almost carrying him to put him on his feet, but Tyelperinquar protests. “I can do it alone Atya.” he states firmly with this sweet and yet determined voice.

I smile, and when Tyelpë is finally on his feet again, he laughs brightly. “Did you see how I fell, atya? Badaboom! Just like in the story you told me, about the ner who runs too fast and falls down!

I can’t prevent a quiet laugh.

Tyelperinquar is particularly dexterous with his hands, just like me and atar, but so clumsy on his legs. Nelyo said once his clumsiness comes from his growing process. He’s growing too quickly, just like he did, and cannot control each movement. I’m not sure I believe him. Tyelprinquar is taller than the other children of his age, but he’s still so little, so fragil.

Using my hand, I dust his clothes and face gently, but Tyelperinquar couldn’t care less. He’s already walking away, still giggling with his robes stained with dirt. Standing up, I follow him, reaching out to catch him. His robes need to be dust again. But Tyelpë doesn’t seem to be in the mood for a toilette, and as he sees me getting closer, he laughs again and runs away.

I can see where this is going.

He stops a bit further, looks at me with a smile, and as soon as I step towards him, he rans away again. His laughters are getting louder and oh, Valar! How I love this sound! A melody so soft and blissful even Cano wouldn’t be able to reproduce it.

“You can’t catch me Atya!’ He laughs as he stumbles away, almost falling down again. I wasn’t in a playing mood before he arrived, but now, I can feel my heart bouncing with bliss, and I give in to my son’s game.

Walking on tip-toe, I follow him, grinning, like a cat after a mouse. He screams with joy and enthusiasm as he sees me getting closer, and runs around as quickly as he can.

I don’t know for how long we play. A few minutes, a few hours; time has lost its meaning. And yet, it’s never long enough.

Finally I catch him, wrapping my arms around the tiny body and scooping my son with all the tenderness I can pour into this movement. He’s overexcited, he screams and laughs when I pull him into a tight embrace, sitting, almost rolling on the ground and paying no attention to the dirt which is now covering my own robes.

This bliss. 

This wondefurl, enchanting feeling on this very moment is beyond joy, beyond happiness. There’s no word in any elven language to describe how good it feels.

Holding him tightly, I close my eyes and smile in his hair, and I can feel a determined hand grabbing one of my braids. That’s something he has always done, since his birth; Grabbing my braids. Sometimes he brings them to his mouth and chew them absent-mindedly, sometimes he just keeps his tiny fists clenched around them. And when Tyelperinquar has his hand wrapped around my braid, there’s nothing in all Aman to make him let go.

But it’s not important. He could pull on my hair, cut it and rip it off, I wouldn’t care less. All I want is to keep him close, as long as possible, and to hear these enchanting laughters of his. Again and again.

—–

I’m exhausted! Wasn’t it fun playing with atya? His big hands coming to catch me and the look on his face when he was getting closer! But I was faster than him! Uncle Tyelko showed me how to run fast. He said I will get faster when I’ll grow up, but I know I’m already very fast for my age. Even atya cannot catch me!

Now I’m laughing against him. He smells like he’s been working in the forge all day. He smells like iron and like the wood that burns in the oven. I like it. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world, besides the smell of cakes. Maybe we should make cakes that smell like atya.

I laugh because I remember how silly atya looked when he was trying to catch me. He looked like a big kitty. A huge kitty. I tell him and he laughs with me.

Atya doesn’t laugh very often, and I’m happy I can make him smile. Sometimes, I make a prayer for atya. I ask Manwë and Varda, I ask them to make atya happier. I know he doesn’t want me to know when he’s sad, but he doesn’t know I know. And he doesn’t know I can see when he’s sad, though I don’t understand why he’s sad.

But today he doesn’t look sad, and I wish he’d never be sad again.

I cling to his braid. It’s soft, like the kitty’s fur, and I can hold it in my hand. I can keep it against me, so atya never leaves me. He said he wouldn’t leave me, he says it every day, but I want to make sure, so I hold his braid and I bury my face into the crook his neck. I feel good, I think I could fall asleep.

We’re sitting here on the grass, and he hums a song. I think it’s one of uncle Cano’s songs. I like when atya sings. He doesn’t sing very often, but I like when he does. It seems it warms me up, it makes me all happy and peaceful inside. I think atya never sings to anyone but me. I feel important when he sings to me, I feel unique. I feel like I’m the most important. And it feels good.

I rest my head on his shoulder. Atya has huge shoulders and huge arms. They are very comfy and I know I’m safe when he holds me. I’m always safe when he’s with me. I don’t want him to ever go away from me.

“Atya…” I say, and when I talk I realise I’m whispering, as if I was telling him a secret. It’s not really a secret, but I like whispering like this when I have something important to tell him. “You’ll stay with me forever, atya?” I need to hear it again, this promise. I need to make sure.

I can’t see his face -his face his buried in my hair – but I can feel his smile and it feels like he’s tightening his arms around me. My fingers tightened around his braid.

“I’ll never leave you, Tyelpë.” His voice is very soft, and I have to move my ears to catch his words. As I do so, I catch another sound coming from afar, and I turn my head to see haru. He’s looking at us and he’s smiling, so I wave at him with my free hand.

Atya raises his head a bit. I know he loves his atya too. He always speaks of him and says nice things about him. He must be happy to see him. I wonder if he hugs his atya like he hugs me, or if he likes listening to him when he sings, or if he holds his braids like I do with him.

Haru is getting closer, he walks slowly, but he’ll soon be there. Atya shifts a bit, and before Haru reaches our level, I hear Atya’s voice in my ear.

“I love you little silver.”


End file.
